Space.

Big and green,
Likewise, my eyes.
Deep in the woods,
Nervous.
Sold to the skies,
Open and crushing.
Bringing the blues,
Suffering.
Dusk sets in,
Red by design.
Starting to bring
Lust.
Bringing the black,
Fighting sleep.
Holding on tight,
Folding.

Youth.

When we open up
We devour anothers time.
Maybe it's not warranted
But who cares?
This is love.
This is what we talk about.
It is why we love
And why we think of each other.
To hold.
To be held by their hope.
An action for reaction
In a hope to be touched.
Opening up.
An attempt to feed the light.
A gap between words
That means nothing but feels like Everything.
A rush of blood to the brain
Like a flock of birds without direction.
Winding back to each other.
Safety in such little numbers.

Senility.

The king of all you survey.
You are nothing to me.
With all that you desire
You suffercate with greed.
With a smile soaked in blood
You did naught when you should.
Your eyes now averted
When you understood.
In the clutches of death
When nothing was left
You still took the low road
And now you're bereft
Of a heart that knows kindness,
Your eyes cloaked in blindness.
A moment to ponder
As you sink into madness.

Control.

Lifting my own weight
With such open pain.
Growing old together
In such a graphic way.
Devoid of sentiment
To help ease the pain.
I'd still rather feel this
Than death come to play.

Stall.

Up with the working,
Still up with the night.
A little bit broken,
The sun brings the light.
Overall,
I'm sure there's something,
so I open my eyes.
It is there,
As am I.